


Glass

by BisexualDisastaur



Series: #FEGenWeek2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Aesthetics, Churches & Cathedrals, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Set during the time Robin is missing, Stained Glass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualDisastaur/pseuds/BisexualDisastaur
Summary: There is a small church on the outskirts of Plegia.
Relationships: Chrom & Marc | Morgan
Series: #FEGenWeek2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709977
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Fire Emblem Gen Week 2020





	Glass

Chrom didn’t know what he was expecting one spring morning in Ylisse, but he certainly wasn’t expecting Nowi suddenly descending from the sky, transforming back into her human form before she even hit the ground and thrusting a letter in his hands.

“It’s from Morgan,” she panted, out of breath and looking exhausted.

Chrom held out a hand to steady her. “Easy there. Are you okay? Is  _ he _ okay?”

Nowi nodded. “He’s fine. Just wanted to get that as soon as possible. Hng… Need a nap.”

Chrom nodded. “Go inside and ask one of the maids to set up a room for you.” Once he made sure the manakete wouldn’t collapse, he opened his son’s letter.

* * *

_ Dear Father, _

_ I hope you are well. Don’t worry about me—I’m doing just fine in Plegia. It’s looking better—the council is ruling well, and the people are faring better with more freedom. The influence of Grima and the Grimleal looks to be mostly cleared out by now. _

_ I say mostly because I’ve found something odd—it’s a small church, but it’s amassed a following of… Well, Grima, I suppose. It’s weird… And connected to Mother? I haven’t found her yet, but… I’ve found some clues. Maybe some stuff you want to look into. I’ve continued on with details below, but I feel like you might want to investigate yourself. _

_ … _

_ Love, _

_ Morgan _

* * *

The letter crumbled in Chrom’s tight grasp. A church following Grima, clues connecting to his wife…  _ “Robin,”  _ Chrom breathed out. He turned to the nearest squire. “Get my horse ready as soon as possible.”

* * *

Morgan dropped the bucket of water he was holding when Chrom rode into the tiny village, the sunset on his back.  _ “Father!?”  _ He squawked. “What are you doing here?”

“You thought it would be best if I investigated personally.” Chrom swung off the horse, walking over to pull his son into a bear hug. “Besides, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Morgan stretched up to wrap his arms around his shoulders tightly. For a moment, they stayed that way, before Chrom loosened his grip and stood back to admire how much his son had grown in his time away from Ylisse. He was taller and tanner, the baby fat that had stayed on melting away and sharpening his face into the same likeness of his mother’s. Chrom’s heart ached.

“It’s been quite some time. How has Plegia been treating you?”

Morgan laughed. “I’m fine. I’m starting to pick up on the language. It really is a lovely place, with the freedom and security the Council gives.”

“Glad to hear that.” Chrom looked up when he heard another voice yell out his name. “Brady! Come here and let me get a look at you. Your mother’s been worried…”

* * *

Morgan insisted that he get a bath and dinner before they speak about his letter. By that time, night had settled, the light of the moon, the stars, and the fireflies setting an ethereal mood as they walked together.

“You said there was a church that followed Grima? And it’s…  _ Peaceful?” _ Chrom asked, although he settled a hand on Falchion at his side.

“Mmhm.” Morgan pointed to the small building they were walking to. “Well, kind of following Grima. They’re not hurting anyone, and they have a different way of looking at things…”

“What do you mea—” Chrom’s voice caught in his throat as Morgan pushed the doors open.

Light. Moonlight, streaming into the church. Grand, high windows, that almost took up the entire back wall. Glass, colored, set into those windows. White, purple, and yellow.

Robin’s face, her eyes closed in peace, immortalized in stained glass. Her hair and her coat, blowing in an unseen wind, made of purple shards. The transience of a crescent moon, curved like a crown above her head, the real moonlight throwing reflections of its yellow beams upon the pews.

“They call her the Hierophant.” Morgan’s voice broke through, and Chrom distantly felt his son leading him deeper inside. “They say she freed them, and that one day she will return.”

“Th-The Hierophant?” Chrom stuttered out. “She… Grima or Robin?”

“I don’t know. The townspeople have been very vague about it.” Morgan smiled sadly. “I’ve been trying to get answers, but nothing so far.” He looked up at the window again. “I would really like to think Mother, though. After all, she sacrificed herself so Grima could never come back.”

“She did indeed.” Chrom stared at the peace on his wife’s face. “It’s beautiful work.”

“Isn’t it? Even though I’m angry that they’re worshipping the Hierophant… I’m glad for it.” Morgan sighed. “To be honest, I’ve been forgetting what she looked like.”

Chrom studied his son, then reached out and pinched his cheek.

“Ow! Father! Stop that!”

“You’re forgetting what she looked like? Just look in a mirror and imagine your hair as white instead of blue.”

Morgan pouted, swatting at his hand. “It’s not that easy! Besides, aren’t I a combination of you both?”

“True, true.” Chrom stared up at the stained glass again. “What incredible likeness. I would like to speak with the artist tomorrow.”

“Sure, I’ll set up a meeting.”

“Thank you.” Chrom suddenly reached out, pulling Morgan closer to him. His son squeaked, flailing.

“Father! What now!?”

“I just.” Chrom sighed, breathing in. “We’re find her one day, Morgan. I promise.”

“...Mn. I know.” Morgan tucked himself deeper into Chrom’s embrace. “Mother… One day. We’ll be waiting.

* * *

_ Light. Sunlight, streaming into her eyes. Grass and flowers that took up most of her vision. A hand, reaching down to her. White, blue, and yellow. _

_ “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” _


End file.
